Hermione Potter
by Rosaroma
Summary: The Girl Who Lived, Hermione Potter thinks she is an ordinary girl - until she is rescued by a giant of a man, enrols in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, learns she is a witch and does battle in a deadly duel. With some big differences along the way.
1. The Girl Who Lived

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

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**Hermione Potter**

The Girl Who Lived

The Dursley's were the most ordinary, insufferable people imaginable, Hermione could attest to this. Aunt Petunia was awake and it was her shrill voice that made the first noise of the day.

"Up! Get up! Now!"

Hermione jumped with a start and bumped her head. She had been awake for an hour going over the nightmare she'd had and the sudden noise gave her a fright. Prying the cupboard door from its stiff frame she straightened out her back and winced.

"Are you up yet?!" her aunt screeched from the kitchen.

"Just about," Hermione said as she rubbed the bruise appearing on her forehead next to her rather prominent scar. She'd got the scar when her parents had died in a car crash. Leaving her in the care of the very reluctant Dursley's, who had never let her forget what a disposition she was. A spider scuttled over her shoulder and she brushed it off, the cupboard under the stairs was full of them.

"Hurry up, come and watch these eggs. Everything must be perfect for my Dudder's birthday."

Dudley's birthday, of course. Hermione sighed and scraped the bacon around the pan to try to save it. Aunt Petunia moved to straighten one of the enormous piles of presents. Hermione never received presents, for which she was thankful, the sight of all of them was completely obscene.

A sharp punch to the arm signalled Dudley's arrival to the kitchen. He laughed and stopped in front of his gifts. Hermione kept a firm grip on the pan handle and imagined hitting him over the head with it.

"How many are there?" Dudley said, his beady eyes trying to look from one to the next and keep count.

"Thirty seven!" said Uncle Vernon grinning as he bustled in with the morning's post grasped firmly in his podgy hand. Dudley spun around like a startled duck and glared at his father, "Thirty seven! Last year I had thirty-eight!"

Hermione rolled her eyes and drowned them out of her thoughts. She transferred the bacon to a plate to put on the table. As she slipped it in-between the presents she spotted the stack of envelopes that Uncle Vernon had put down in the foray. Tilting her head to the side she noted addressed to her, one finely penned envelope.

_Miss H Potter  
The Cupboard under the Stairs,  
4 Privet Drive,  
Little Whinging,  
Surrey_

She was surprised upon reaching towards it to find the grip of Uncle Vernon's hand around her shoulder. If the two of them kept manhandling her like this her arm might decide to fall off.

"And what do you think you are doing?" He said sliding the pile of letters out of her reach.

"That letter is addressed to me." Hermione tried to get a closer look, she had never received mail from anyone, ever. She shook her hair frustrated and tried to get past him. "I want to read it. Its belongs to me."

Uncle Vernon would have none of it and threw the letter into the fire. Hermione felt her eyes glassy with the lost hope of having felt anything like hope in the first place.

"Petunia, take Dudley to the car. We'll be right there." He said not bothering to conceal the hatred that marred his face.

"You will behave today, I don't want any funny business from you Missy." He grew closer and Hermione kept her back stiff and refused to break eye contact. "If anything happens, anything at all. You won't eat, for a week!" He roared before disappearing out the front door as though nothing had happened. She unclenched stiff fists and looked at the wisps of her letter disappearing up the chimney before going out to the car.

A great fuss was made as they arrived at the zoo some time later, it was important that Dudley had the best day of his life. Hermione drifted away from them as soon as the opportunity arose. She spotted a large shining snake lying tightly coiled in the base of its tank.

"At least they can't get to you in there." She said glancing back at the Dursley's to make sure they couldn't hear her.

The snake's head lifted a fraction and it started to slither out of its circle. Hermione leant her head against the glass and frowned as she watched the scales reflect light.  
"We're both trapped, you and I." It nodded its head and Hermione jumped slightly, lifting her head to look closely at the snakes face.  
"Can you understand me?" her eyes appraised the snake wondering where it was from. The snake nodded once again and she looked to the sign that said it was from Burma. _Bred in captivity._

_Like me_, Hermione thought.

A shove to her side sent Hermione head long into the floor. Groaning she sat up and saw Dudley banging on the glass. How incredibly rude could one boy be? It would be the third set of bruises that day.

"Mummy, Daddy, come look what this snake is doing!" Dudley said breathing on the glass as he tried to get closer. Hermione felt the end of her patience and suddenly the glass vanished, causing an oversized Dudley to topple straight into the tank. She couldn't help herself, she burst out laughing. The laughs came in waves and as the snake slid past she grinned and felt a little victory on its behalf.

The joy was short-lived as Uncle Vernon gripped her collar and dragged her back to standing.  
"That's the last time you embarrass us." He whispered in her ear, his stubble rubbed her cheek horribly.

Aunt Petunia was dragging Dudley out of the tank as though he'd just escaped from the jaws of death. She was about five shades paler than usual and that was saying something.

When they reached the house, a shivering Dudley was rushed to his room to be taken care of. While Hermione was flung into the cupboard and the door slammed in her face. The gold vent on the door was dragged shut, leaving Hermione on her bed in the dark with the prospect of no food, for a week.

Waking the next day was an unpleasant experience, the house was full of the scent of a full english breakfast. The Dursley's were trying to make her suffer. To add insult to injury she was commanded to sit at the table for every meal. She liked to think it gave her time to master ever further bounds of patience, if only one could take exams in patience.

Everyday more letters arrived at 4 Privet Drive, until Saturday morning when Uncle Vernon drilled the letter box shut. Hermione sulked inwardly, furious that she was being kept from information that was rightfully hers, whatever it was in regards to.

Sunday morning arrived and Uncle Vernon was found humming most disturbingly as Hermione served them breakfast.

"Fine day, Sunday. In my opinion the best day of the week. Why is that Dudley?"

Dudley looked up from his mouthful and shrugged.

Hermione put the last plate down. "Because there's no post on Sundays." She'd known as soon as she'd heard him practically skip down the staircase this morning, scattering dust all over her clothes.

"No post on Sundays." He grinned manically and blinked his eyes independent of each other. Hermione was disgusted by this man before her, his every action toward her was intended to harm and she couldn't imagine how a person became this way.

A flash of wings beyond the curtains caught Hermione's eye and she thought she saw an owl. It wasn't often you saw owls, especially during day light hours she thought. Just at that very moment a rustling noise began to filter down the chimney and the fire flickered uncertainly. Before Hermione could grasp what was happening Uncle Vernon has disappeared beneath a rush of letters. Hundreds of them flew through the air and one caught in her hair, she quickly pulled it down and against her stomach and ran for the hall.

"Oh no you don't!" Uncle Vernon came stampeding after her and she desperately tried to open her cupboard door. Tearing the letter out of her grip, Uncle Vernon ripped it up in front of her nose.  
"We're leaving! Now! We're going far away!" he obviously thought that would help.

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Hermione lay on the floor in the most dusty little house they could find in the middle of the night. Vernon had hoarded them into a small boat and having survived a storm they had arrived here. Hermione had little hope that the owls would know where they were or be able to fly at all in this weather.

Tracing a light finger in the dust she drew herself a cake with the words '_Happy Birthday'_ written under eleven candles. Looking at Dudley's watch that hung on his limp wrist beside her she read the time, in one minute she would be thirteen years old.

The noise of the thunder built as Hermione blew the sand across her candles, scattering them out of existence. Her chin felt dirty from the ground and she rubbed at it, willing herself to be happy that she got to celebrate another year of life.

_Bang, bang, bang, bang._

Hermione leapt from the floor and backed up against the cold stone wall as the door shook on its hinges. Another bang and the metal hinges pinged across the room as the door tipped uselessly to the ground. Framed in the light of the moon was the biggest, hairiest man Hermione had ever laid eyes on and he was looking right at her.


	2. Here Comes Hagrid

******Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.  
I would like to write a lot more of this. I have some big differences in mind that I think you will enjoy. Tell me how you like it so far.**

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**Here Comes Hagrid**

"Sorry 'bout that," the giant reached down for the door and replaced it in its frame. Hermione's mouth fell open.

Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had run downstairs at the noise and Uncle Vernon now brandished a shaking shot-gun in the intruders direction. "I demand that you leave at once Sir. You are breaking and entering."

Two large steps and the shotgun was being bent in half in one of the giants fist.

"Dry up Dursley you old prune." He said unflinching as the shotgun misfired and blew a hole in the ceiling.

"Now where is she?" he said turning to look about the dank dark room with a smile obvious even under his beard.

"M-me?" Hermione asked barely able to find the breath for one word, she stepped out into the light and fiddled with her skirt. A lot of adrenaline was swirling about in her stomach, making her feel entirely unbalanced.

"Hermione," he said happily, rolling the 'r' in a way she had never heard before.

"I've got somethin' fer yeh, 'fraid I might have sat on it at some point. I imagine it'll taste fine just the same."

Hermione didn't remember ever having seen this large man in her life. She watched transfixed as he reached into his enormous overcoat and produced a white box, tied with a thin purple ribbon. It did look rather squashed but she bit her lip as she took it, excited to see its contents.

"Baked it myself, words an' all." He might have blushed as he waited for her to open it but it was too dark to tell for sure. _Happee Birthdae Hermiony_, written in green icing in a large unsteady hand just fit on the surface of the cake.

"It's not everyday our young woman turns eleven now is it?" he said bending to sit on the low sofa in front of the fire. He pulled a pink umbrella from one of his pockets and shot balls of fire into the empty grate from its tip. Hermione's face swung from the now lit fireplace back round to the hand holding the unusual umbrella. Depositing the cake on the end of the sofa she sat down heavily and tried to process what she had just seen.

"It couldn't have been magic." She hadn't intended to say it out loud but it had caused him to peer down at her quizzically none the less.

"I'm sorry, but who are you?" Hermione said finding her voice in the face of curiosity.

"Rubeus Hagrid, keeper of keys and grounds at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." His large beard was illuminated from below by the fire as he spoke. "I knew your parents 'course, when they were there."

"My parents? Went to…" Hermione's head might have been spinning. No one had mentioned her parents in years and they had never been talked of in a positive manner.

"'Course they did. Didn' yer ever wonder where they learnt it all?" his thick accent was strangely comforting.

"All what?" Hermione had never felt quite so confounded.

"Yeh're a witch Hermione."

Hermione's eyebrows shot up, "I'm a what?" she rose uncertainly from the sofa. The fire felt too hot against her skin and she tried to breathe evenly. Maybe a week without food had been too much for her to withstand, perhaps she was unconscious in a hospital bed somewhere.

"A witch and a thumpin' gud'n I'd wager, once yeh're trained up a little." Hagrid seemed more enthused as he spoke. Hermione found herself almost believing what he was saying.

"No. You've made a mistake. I can't be a witch." She brushed her hair out of her eyes and her forehead felt clammy.

"There's no such thing as magic." Hermione knew this to be true, she had been stuck with the Dursley's long enough to have had the magic sucked out of life, let alone out of her.

"Did yeh never make anything happen Hermione?" Hagrid caught her eye. "Anything you couldn' explain, when you were angry or scared?"

Hermione's eyes lit up as she thought of the snake incident and the vanishing glass, she almost wanted to laugh again. Hagrid's eyebrows rose in triumph. Out of another pocket he handed her what revealed itself to be the letter that had tried to find its way to her all week.

Gingerly turning it in her hands she broke the seal and unfolded the letter with shaking fingers.

_Dear Miss. Potter,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

Uncle Vernon was ambling across the room as fast as he could but nothing could dampen the thing growing in Hermione's chest. She was finally going to leave the Dursley's.

"She will not be going!" Vernon snapped as he came up alongside them.

"You knew?" Hermione saw a new level of hatred for these people.

"Of course we knew," Aunt Petunias voice spat, "How could you not be. My perfect sister being who she was. My mother and father were so proud, the day she got her letter." Her nasal voice was thick with disgust. "A witch in the family. I was the only one to see her for what she was, a _freak_." She was coming nearer and nearer as she spoke until Hermione didn't want to breathe in.

"Then she met that Potter and she had you, and I knew you would be the same. Just as strange, just as abnormal and then if you please she went and got herself blown up and landed us with you."

Hermione's shocked face must have amused her because Petunia smiled cruelly. "Yes, it wasn't a car crash after all," she bit out.

"A car crash?!" Hagrid's booming voice carried over Hermione's head like a sledge-hammer and Petunia stumbled back. "A car crash, kill Lily an' James Potter?!" Hermione might have been afraid if she had not felt so very angry.

"We had to say something," Petunia mumbled turning to Vernon archly.

"It's a scandal," Hagrid said, sounding beside himself and growling.

"She'll not be going." Vernon said rather unwisely glaring up at Hagrid.

Hagrid laughed, "A great muggle like yerself is gonna stop her are yeh?"

"Muggle?" Hermione said not having heard the word before.

"Non magic folk," he said in explanation.

He turned back to Vernon, "This girls had her name down since she were born. She'll be goin' to the finest school of Witchcraft an' Wizardry, an' she'll be under the finest headmaster that Hogwarts has ever seen! Albus Dumbledore." He roared.

"I'll not pay to have some crackpot teach her magic tricks." Uncle Vernon turned a hideous shade of puce at the thought of paying for anything for Hermione.

Hagrid's eyes flicked to the wiggling form of Dudley with his face in Hermione's birthday cake. Her face fell at the loss of the present but the thought of leaving stopped her being overly sad. Hagrid however thought a little retribution wouldn't go a miss and flicking his umbrella at the large younger Dursley's behind, a pig's tail broke through his hideous pyjama trousers to the screams of both his parents.

An enormous grin hit Hermione right in the face and she watched happily as they screamed their way out of the room. Turning to Hagrid she beheld this amazing giant of a man who had appeared to save her.

"I'd appreciate it if yeh didn' tell anyone 'bout that. Strictly speakin' I'm not allowed to do magic.' Hagrid said conspiratorially.

"Okay," Hermione nodded eagerly and looked about the empty room that had seemed so hopeless only moments ago.

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**What do you think?**


	3. Diagon Alley

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

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**Hermione Potter**

**Diagon Alley**

Hagrid stowed his umbrella back in his coat as the wall they stood beside began to shift bricks aside, apparently making way for them to enter.

"Diagon Alley," Hagrid boomed.

Hermione unglued her eyes from the magical wall and positively drank in the sight of a myriad of shops. They were shops selling flying brooms, all kinds of owls, shops full of strange ingredients and bizarre flying sweets. Realistically Hermione had never had two coins to rub together in her entire life but she longed to go in and look around.

She wondered if there were some sort of magical equivalent to a library, she would be happy to read about all of this if she couldn't take it with her.

Hagrid cleared his throat. "This way Hermione," and he went off along the street past witches and wizards in long black robes carrying stacks of shining cauldrons and rolls and rolls of parchment. Some in the crowds looked friendlier than others observed Hermione as a family of giggling red haired people went ambling past.

"Stop it George!" one of the younger girls shouted as she tried to extricate some kind of bewitched spinning top that was tangled in her hair. The mother of the group whacked the back of one of the boys heads and hurried them all further along the road warning them to behave.

"In here," Hagrid had stopped outside an extremely large, old looking building bearing the name, _Gringotts Wizarding Bank_. Hermione followed obligingly, wondering if Hagrid expected her to hold an account when she had only been a witch to her knowledge, about twenty four hours. Any preconceived ideas of what a bank looked like scuttled out the door when a strange angry looking creature stalked right past them.

"Hagrid, what was that?" Hermione tried not to raise her voice and cause offence, she may have been unclear on magical etiquette but insulting bank tellers seemed wrong.

"They're goblins, they run the bank. Best stay close." Hagrid eyed one particular goblin whose beady eyes stared back as they went to a desk at the far end.

"Yes," the voice of a particularly wrinkled goblin hissed not looking up from his stamp.

"Here to open Miss Hermione Potter's vault, and a little business for Dumbledore." Hagrid slid a folded piece of parchment across into the goblins long curled fingers.

"Of course, this way," the goblin said climbing down from its chair.

Shortly they found themselves outside vault three hundred and sixty four. Hagrid gestured for Hermione to stay in the cart they had ridden down in, and lumbered up to an intricate grey door. Hermione peered as discreetly as she could past Hagrid to see what was so heavily guarded that even a key was not sufficient.

Taking its finger the goblin brushed down the partition and heavy bolts tumbled and turned before the large doors opened inward. A cavernous space for such a small parcel revealed itself and Hagrid closed his palm around it before stuffing it into another of his bottomless pockets.

"Next stop is you Hermione," Hagrid said happily.  
Sure enough when the cart next jittered to a stop the goblin jerked his head for her to get out. Hopping out in its wake she waited for the inevitable, except that when the doors were parted, Hermione saw more gold than her wildest dreams could have conjured; stacks and golden piles taller than the reasonably sized eleven year old covered every inch of the vault.

Hagrid came up behind the stunned Hermione and passed her a black velvet bag. "Fill that for now, should do to get yeh started."

Hermione didn't move, she felt dizzy.

Hagrid's eyebrows climbed slightly up his broad face, "You didn't think yeh're parents would leave yeh with nothing, did yeh?"

Hermione shook her head embarrassed, she had thought a lot of her parents absence from her life but to think they had provided for this eventuality, she had not pondered.

They emerged back into the sun with lighter smiles.

"Right, off to Ollivanders," Hagrid said descending the steps back onto the street and hooking a right. Hermione dashed along to keep up.

"Who or what is Ollivander's?" Hermione hoped he owned a book shop.

"This is," Hagrid opened the door of the shop they had just reached. Hermione followed the elaborate window display disbelievingly up to the name.

'_Ollivanders, Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC,__' _was written in dusty shining letters.

_Amazing_, Hermione thought and stepped up to the door. Realising at the last moment Hagrid wasn't coming in she turned back.

"I've got to go pick something up. You find your wand and I'll meet you back here."

Hermione nodded minutely and turned with trepidation back into the shadowed shop front.

Absently running a finger over the scar on her forehead she pushed the heavy door open. She thought back to the stares she had gotten as they had arrived in the Leaky Cauldron, they had been uncomfortable at best and baffling at worst. Of course Hagrid had explained the circumstance of her parents death and her part in destroying one of the most evil wizards the magical world had ever known, but Hermione still felt like, well, just Hermione, the girl who lived under the stairs.

"Hermione Potter," a voice said from behind causing her to leap into a stack of wands and scatter them across the floor. She bent to pick them up.

"It is no matter, I was wondering when you were going to show up." A wizard with especially fluffy white hair peered over silver rimmed spectacles at her. Hermione stood back up and reluctantly left the wands in their haphazard positions. "I am Ollivander." He said wandering off up one of the ladders that hooked the many shelves of wands.

"Try this one," he said ambling back down with an expectant smile.

Hermione took it from his hand and looked back nonplussed.

"Give it a wave," Ollivander said as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Oh," one swish of her hand however and Ollivander came tumbling off his ladder with half the wands that had stood beside him.

"Not that one," he said plucking it from her grasp before anymore damage could be done.

Hermione flushed red and hoped she got a second chance.

"This one perhaps," the second wand felt more comfortable to hold but a smashed vase later it was apparent that this was not the right wand either. Several wands followed in their wake until the shop was unrecognisable from the one she had entered. Ollivander disappeared for longer this time and Hermione tapped her foot as she waited, nervous that they might not find the right one and she would have to return to the Dursley's. One couldn't exactly attend a school for witches and wizards without a wand.

"Try this," Ollivander said as he reappeared glancing sideways at the box in his hand. He took an extra precautionary step backward this time before placing it in her waiting palm. As she held it up to flick, a wind rushed through the shop, throwing Hermione's hair back and lighting the air around the wand before dimming.

"Curious," said Ollivander as he eyed her from his slight distance. "Curious that it should be this wand, when its brother gave you that scar."

Unnerved Hermione passed the wand back to him. Who would want a wand that was connected to their parents murderer? Ollivander simply wrapped it for her and placed it on the counter. "We can expect great things from you Miss Potter, for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things, terrible," he conceded with a grave nod, "but _great_." The gravity of his statement sat uncomfortably in the dust filled air as the door creaked open.

"Hello Ollivander," Hagrid said as he let in a gush of fresh air and eyed Hermione's wand hopefully. "Found it then," he grinned and took the right amount of gold out of the small velvet bag and handed it to Ollivander.

"Right all you'll be needing now are your robes," he said shaking a cage in his hand that showed a snowy white owl clinging to her perch. "Happy birthday, here you can take her if you want." Hermione took the owl and tried to walk very steadily as she followed Hagrid across the street to _Madam Malkin__'__s robes for all occasions._

Hagrid waited outside while Hermione was asked to stand on a chair. A woman dressed in garish pink robes turned her left and right as she took the necessary measurements. When she had them all she was asked to sit next to a pale faced boy with a bored expression.

"Suppose your here for your robes too." The boy said as if it was a great chore to be sat waiting in a magical shopping district. "I've been trying to work out how to get my broom in, Dumbledore won't allow first years to bring their own. Of course I'll need it if I'm going to join the Quidditch team by second year. What house are you in for? I'm a straight shot for Slytherin, my whole families been in Slytherin for generations." He didn't stop talking until Hagrid pressed his nose against the glass looking for her.

"Hows it going?" Hagrid mouthed through the window. Hermione smiled and nodded in reassurance though she had no idea what on earth the boy next to her was talking about. Feeling out of her depth would take a while to adjust to.

"Don't know what he's doing here, his kind shouldn't be allowed in." It was a venomous sort of comment the boy made and Hermione bristled deciding to ignore him until Madam Malkin brought her robes out.

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"Hagrid," Hermione said handing him the robes and taking some of the books they had just bought. Some being an operative word, seeing as Hermione had tried to bring half of Flourish and Botts with them.  
"What's Slytherin and what in the world is Quidditch?" she said as he packed the robes into a trunk they'd bought and let her put the books in before closing the lid.

"Oh you've been hearing about the school houses 'ave you?" he straightened up and carried the trunk. "Well there's four houses you see, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. As for Quidditch, its a game played on brooms and you'll be seeing plenty of it once you get to Hogwarts, very competitive sport Quidditch."

Hogwarts could not have come soon enough in Hermione's mind. She had been saddened when Hagrid had sent her back to the Dursley's with instructions to catch a train from platform nine and three quarters on the first of September. But her new found knowledge and the stack of books under her bed were providing a lot of distraction.

Hermione had poured over every book, settling on Hogwarts a History most evenings to learn everything about the place she was going. Hagrid had given her strict instructions not to do any magic till she got to Hogwarts and so the mysterious wand remained wrapped at the bottom of her trunk.

Learning the theory would hopefully give her a good grounding for when she arrived, to keep up with her classmates who had grown up in wizarding families and had probably seen plenty of magic being performed.

What the books would not do however was make Dudley, Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia any more bearable to live with, Dudley was being more foul than ever and Uncle Vernon banned all talk of anything magical. Aunt Petunia's looks could make a rock shrivel up and she could imagine how her mother had felt when she got her letter. Hermione was bursting with all the things she had learned, everything she wanted to know more about, of course the Dursley's could care less about the existence of goblins and unicorns and magic.

However at tea the night before the train she had to ask. "I need a lift to Kings Cross station tomorrow, can you take me, please?" Hermione said hoping he wouldn't refuse, she wasn't sure she had a back up plan for making it there.

"Funny way to get to a wizards' school, the train. Magic carpets all got punctures, have they?" Vernon said gulping his cup of tea and putting it down rather forcefully on the saucer. "I'll take you, but only to have you out of our hair."

Hermione beamed at him and then tried to stop as it was making him steadily more angry. After dinner she rushed to put everything in her trunk and realised she had been ready for the past week. Telling herself that sitting on her trunk until morning probably would not help convince Uncle Vernon she was sane Hermione went to bed and waited for morning.

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**AN: Next chapter is where we found out who the other two members of the golden trio are. I hope you are enjoying this as much as me.**


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